Scars on the Soul
by Sim Spider
Summary: Max walks in and sees something Logan doesn't want her to. A drabble.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

A/n: This story is dedicated to my DAR sister Gypsydoggy10, in the hope it will encourage her to block anonymous reviews and re-post the wonderful Making Amends. Please?

Set just before Art Attack.

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Scars on the Soul

Silently as always, Max picked the lock to Logan's apartment, letting herself in with the careless ease of long practice. She was about to call out to him when she heard Bling's voice, sounding pleased.

"Well done, Logan, you've managed not to bust a single stitch this week. If Sam approves, you can have them taken out tomorrow. Just in time for basketball practice." Still without making a sound, Max shifted so that she could see into Logan's training room; he lay face down on the bench, head resting on his folded arms. Bling was blocking most of her view, but she could see enough to know he'd stripped down to his shorts. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth at the sight.

"Good," grunted Logan. "The damn things itch like hell. They're driving me crazy."

"I'll get some more lotion to put on them," the therapist said, amused. "Be right back."

Bling's considerable bulk moved away from him, revealing the full expanse of Logan's naked back to Max's widening eyes.

The pale skin stretched tightly over his muscular shoulders, emphasising their power. The sight was oddly discordant with the network of shiny white scars that marred the smoothness, and the pinkish almost healed one that ran half the length of his spine. That must be from the last surgery, Max realised. The one that almost killed him; again. She shuddered at the thought of how close she'd been to losing this man.

Right in the centre, almost obscured by the countless surgical incisions that had been made around it, lay a small, innocuous looking dimple of scar tissue. The only visible mark made by the bullet that had taken Logan's legs, and very nearly his life, from him.

Max couldn't tear her eyes from the sight. She marvelled that such a small thing could have caused so much devastation…

"Max?" Bling had returned, lotion in hand. "What are you doing here?"

On hearing her name, Logan's head snapped around. His humiliation that she should see him like this was unmistakable.

Max finally found her voice. "I, uh, I'm sorry, I was just dropping by… but I see you're busy, so…" She began to back away.

"We'll only be a few minutes," said Bling placidly. "You're welcome to wait."

Max looked back at Logan, but he refused to meet her gaze. She could imagine the shame and anger in his expressive blue eyes and found herself wanting to be there for him, to comfort him as he had her.

"Ok. I'll wait then," she said, leaving the two of them alone.

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Max needed the ten minutes or so before Logan's appearance to gather her thoughts, prepare for his reaction to what she'd seen.

He wheeled into the living room, now dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the shame still burning in his eyes. "Hey," she said with a smile, trying to show him she was ok with this. "You sore?"

"I'm fine," he replied, shortly. "It's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry you had to see it."

"Sorry for what? I know what scars look like; mine just heal faster than most."

"I know; but my back isn't exactly an oil painting."

"I've seen worse," she told him. "Honestly, Logan, it's ok."

"That's not what your face said a few minutes ago," he said, his voice brittle.

"The consequences of wrong decisions can be hard to live with," replied Max quietly.

"Are you saying you think it's your fault?" Max's silence was reason enough for Logan to vent his anger. "That's why you hang around here, isn't it? Guilt, because you weren't there before. I don't want your pity, Max."

"Oh, no, I don't pity you, Logan. There's no need; you have more than enough of your own. You should be proud of those scars, not ashamed of them."

"You think I should be proud of failure?"

Both of them paused as they realised they were yelling.

"Come here, Logan," said Max, in a more normal tone. "I want to show you something." She rose from her seat and led him to the mirror they'd looked into together, so long ago.

"American," said Logan flatly. "Neoclassic, gold leaf detail late eighteen hundreds. You could probably fence it for two or three grand."

"No," she said, kneeling beside him and taking his jaw gently in her hand. "I meant this. Probably the singularly most incredible person I've ever met."

"You don't need to follow the script to make me feel better, Max."

"I'm not. I'm saying it because it's true. You're more than a chair, Logan; you're an intelligent, caring man with more integrity and nobility in your little finger than the rest of Seattle put together. So what if your legs don't work? That doesn't change who you are inside."

"You don't understand, Max," Logan said, harshly. "You can't. What it's like to have to wake up every morning and remember that I'm broken…"

"Why do you think I don't sleep?" She asked. "Just because the scars aren't on the surface doesn't mean they're not there."

"Scars on the soul," said he said softly. "Got a few of those, too."

"Show me again, Logan," Max asked. "I want to see your back again."

Reluctantly, Logan swivelled to the side and pulled up his t-shirt, exposing the scars once more. He watched in the mirror as Max ran one finger down his spine, until she felt the lump that was the bullet wound. And then softly, tenderly, she brushed her lips against it.

Suddenly embarrassed by her gesture, Max stood abruptly and headed for the door, calling out to him over her shoulder. "Gotta blaze or Normal'll have my ass. See ya."

Pulling himself from his daze, Logan managed to reply. "Hey, Max?"

"What?" She paused, looking back.

"Thanks. Uh, drop by the park after basketball tomorrow? There's… something I wanna talk to you about."

"No problem," she told him, smiling softly.

The same smile lingered on both of their lips for the rest of the day.

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Any sickos reading this need not review.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: This was originally going to be a one shot, but I thought the ending felt a bit abrupt. Besides, the first part was from Max's POV; what would Logan make of it?

(Plus it gives me extra space to try and persuade Gypsydoggy10 to re-post.)

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Scars on the Soul: Part Two

Logan sat in his chair, gazing out over the city, lost in thought. The sun had set spectacularly hours ago before his unseeing eyes; now the twinkling lights of Seattle were the only illumination in the dim apartment.

Max's words and gestures repeated over and over in his head. He marvelled at the idea that someone as physically perfect as Max could see him as a whole person, not the broken ruin that had stared bleakly back at him from the mirror. He rarely looked in a full length mirror these days; it was just easier not to have to contemplate what the rest of the world saw when they looked at the great and powerful Eyes Only.

Logan saw their expressions every time he left his self imposed prison; the pitying looks he got from everyone from sector cops to market vendors to his own family. He hated them, hated standing out, hated the feeling of helplessness and inadequacy it gave him.

Only once had he seen the same thing in Max's eyes. He'd turned away, so he didn't have to see it, but he knew it was there. He remembered so clearly…

"_See you're back at it. Rocking the boat." _

"_Somebody's got to." _

"_I'dve come sooner, but… I didn't. How you doin?"_

"_Not in any pain; good and bad news of a blown out spinal cord." _

"_I'm sorry." _

It was then he'd seen it. Guilt and pity in those eyes he'd looked down into so recently, eyes that had run over his athletic body from head to toe, while he held a shotgun on her. Eyes that had connected with his as they looked into the mirror together, dropping their guard just a little too far and allowing him a look at her barcode. How he'd wished afterwards that he'd kissed her, just so he could say he'd stolen the breath of an angel…

"_I'm sorry."_ Everyone was sorry about what had happened to him. Sam, Matt, Bennett, Lauren… Even Bruno. The only people who'd never told him they were sorry were Bling and Jonas. Bling because he knew Logan didn't want to hear it, and Jonas because he wasn't. In fact, a glint of triumph, a clear 'I told you so, Junior,' had been present in his eyes when he first met his nephew after the shooting.

But Max thought he was _incredible._ And she'd hardly met him before the chair came along. The strongest, bravest, most unique human being he'd ever met; let alone the most beautiful. Who cared what Jonas thought if Max admired him? With her behind him, there was nothing he couldn't do.

Unless… was she just saying that? She did need him to help find her siblings. Maybe she thought a little 'over the top flattery' of her own would keep him on her side.

But she does way more for me than I do for her, what with all the missions, Logan thought. Max doesn't need to flatter me to get me to help her. And the kiss…

When Max had brushed his scar so lightly with her lips she'd had no idea of the effect on him. Logan swore he'd felt the contact in every nerve in his body; like a spark jumping across the gap in his spine. Right at that second, he could have risen to his feet and taken Max in his arms. And he'd have a second chance to steal the breath of his angel…

Then another thought occurred to Logan that wiped the smile from his features. What if Max was just curious? He doubted she'd had much to do with the disabled before him; why should she? What if she just wanted to know what it was like to screw a cripple?

But no. The kiss hadn't been a sensual gesture. It had been about friendship, trust… acceptance. It was only him trying to put a romantic spin on his relationship with Max. She probably thought of him as just a friend, the only person she could talk to about her past without fear. Maybe if he could walk she'd begin to see him differently. But for now, he was more than happy with just her friendship.

In that case, maybe she'd take the invitation he intended to make the next day the wrong way. Max might even think she'd been leading him on without realising it if he asked her to come meet his family. Besides, after an evening with that crowd she might never want to see him again.

It would probably be safest to just not show. Bennett would be pissed that his best man had stood him up, like he had at the wedding rehearsal (Logan had been in no state to go; he'd been too busy treating the electrical burns on Max's back left by the Reds). But he could always use the excuse that it would be his first family occasion since the shooting. Hour after hour of twittering aunts and cousins and associated hangers on all telling him how sorry they were. And it wouldn't be a lie. Without Max beside him, he didn't think he'd be able to keep it together until it was time for his carefully prepared and written speech. His cousin would understand, eventually.

Yes. He'd drop the rings back to Bennett tomorrow after basketball; the least Logan owed him was a face to face explanation. It was definitely the right thing to do.

And Logan Cale always did the right thing. Right?

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The End. So? What did you think?

This story was the best I could do as far as persuasion goes, but here's some shameless begging:

**Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please re-post Making Amends! **


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